


Fate/twisty moon

by warisaracket



Category: Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, RuneQuest (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 01:44:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21330214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warisaracket/pseuds/warisaracket
Summary: This story technically uses characters from the Glorantha setting of the Runequest and Heroquest roleplaying games and the video game King of Dragon Pass. They are extraordinarily divergent interpretations of such, however. The overall premise is that of a Holy Grail War. I don't know what much else to say beyond that there's a lot of lesbian activity here.
Relationships: Original Character/Original Character
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

_Then let thine eyes be clouded, With the fog of turmoil and chaos,  
Thou, who art trapped in a cage of madness, And I, the summoner, who holds thy chains!_

No one had told her that it would be like this. Ermengarde Theophrastus Ecclesiasticus von der Mittelmarchen had spent the whole of her life so far in the occult- and occultated- world of magic, for the past six years the official heir of the family, following a second cousin twice removed dying after an indiscretion with a Dead Apostle. She was well aware that if you wished to call up a Servant as a familiar, or within the bounds of a Grail War, you risked a great deal. There was the chance that they would slip their bounds and kill you, or maim you, or merely extract geasa and oaths that would bind you in turn. 

She was not aware that there was a chance that they would treat you with amusement. Or look at you with bedroom eyes every so often. She supposed it was her fault, in the end. She had gone ahead without any sort of catalyst, trusting to the vagaries of her natural affinities to grant her an appropriate Servant. 

And so she had summoned one of the Avenger class. What did that say about her? What did that say about this Grail War, that more classes than the usual seven were permitted? And what did it say about her that she had summoned this particular Avenger?

The Avenger in question was naked and sunning herself on an upstairs balcony at the moment, as Ermengarde discovered on searching her out. She stared at the garish sunlounger Avenger was laying on, then at the cocktail glass and the bright blue concoction within, trying not to look at Avenger’s nude body. She could hardly avoid catching a glimpse of it, of course, and it certainly wasn’t unpleasant to look upon. Trim, muscular, gentle curves in what a hack novelist might term “all the right places,” Avenger was hot. And well aware of it. And seemed to take any admiration of her body as an excuse to flirt. 

“I told you not to drink any of my alcohol,” Ermengarde hissed, briefly forgetting why she’d searched for Avenger in the first place. “And you should never put food coloring in a drink,” she continued, getting into her stride. 

“I’m not and I didn’t. It’s called ‘Blue Curaçao’, for one thing, and for another, this is all my own work,” Avenger said, patting a plastic grocery bag under the sunlounger. 

“Are you stealing?” Ermengarde asked, briefly baffled.

“Not in the way that you mean, no. It’s just a little lightweight bank fraud,” Avenger said, taking a drink. “I can make one for you if that would help you loosen up.” 

“Bank fraud?” Ermengarde’s head pounded. “We are supposed to be preparing to take part in a magical ritual of incredible proportion, one wherein we will be required to use every gram of our combined abilities, which is the only reason why I haven’t used my Command Seals yet, as you are well aware, and you’re slacking-”

“I’m hardly slacking,” Avenger said, setting her drink down and standing up. She advanced on Ermengarde. “You see, you think this will be a matter of frontal battles. Of magicians tossing their strongest spells against one another, not least in the form of their summoned dogs, I mean ‘Servants’.” She yawned, stopping just a pace away from Ermengarde, who automatically stepped back to maintain more personal space. 

Avenger smirked. “You see, you’re lucky you called on me,” she said, advancing a little further and watching Ermengarde back up again. “That approach appears to be how these… ‘Grail Wars’ are typically fought. So it’s no wonder that they’re so frequently utter disasters. Catastrophes of wasted life and effort.” She advanced further, and Ermengarde retreated, now not more than a step back from the wall of the house. 

“According to you, you’ve never taken part in one,” Ermengarde said. “So where do you get off telling me that they’re being fought all wrong?” 

“I get off wherever I please, usually,” Avenger said. She took a step forward. Ermengarde backed against the wall. “And while I’ve never been in a ‘Grail War’ before, I’ve been in plenty of wars where magic was tossed about with abandon. I remember a day when a thousand priests of the sun tried to obliterate a friend. They melted his armor but he slew them all anyways with the bronze dripping off him.” She closed the gap and placed her lips next to Ermengarde’s ear.

“What-” Ermengarde said, choking. 

“And yet,” Avenger whispered, “When I needed to rid myself of him and his crude violence, it was but the work of a moment to direct him at something which would occupy him for long enough to sate his desires.” She sighed directly into Ermengarde. “So you see, the indirect approach, the gentle touch, these can be quite profitable methods indeed.”

Ermengarde took gasping, heaving breaths, feeling like Avenger must surely have become a snake or something and coiled around her flesh to cut off her air. But there was nothing touching her but Avenger’s own gentle breaths.

“So, then…” Avenger said, still in a whisper, “It would really be so much better if we were to be partners, rather than Master and Servant.” She placed her hand on Ermengarde’s heart. “What do you say? An alliance of equals, for the moment?” 

Ermengarde’s heart stopped. “Yes,” she said, unable to think. “Yes, an alliance of equals.”

Avenger laughed delicately. “How quickly you answered that! You’re very smart.” She moved her hand to Ermengarde’s left hand and pulled it up for a kiss. “I’ve always loved that in a woman.” 

Ermengarde kept herself from moaning, with effort. “If we’re going to be equals, then I really should know your name, shouldn’t I?” 

“You should!” Avenger agreed, kissing each finger individually. She looked Ermengarde directly in the eyes. “I don’t think it will mean anything to you, but you really should know my name.”

Avenger cleared her throat, then paused for a moment, and then her smile widened a little. “Hmm, it is a bit hard to name myself, honestly. I’ve had so many epithets and titles and appellations. But I shall give you one that’s very special to me. It’s not the first I won, nor the most grandiose, but it sits very close to my heart indeed.” 

She leaned back in and whispered, “My name, Ermengarde, is ‘Prince Argrath’. Say it whenever you like.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Making up fake Mage family names within the Fate setting is honestly so much fun.
> 
> Argrath is supposedly canonically a man in the default Glorantha setting. Good thing that it's explicit that your Glorantha varies, right? Anyways, enjoy this evil bastard lesbian before she actually does anything directly evil or bastardy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we are introduced to our primary protagonists.

All through the week the world had been askew. That was all Joselle could think of to describe it. Winds blowing in odd directions, water trickling just slightly to an angle from downhill, strange cold spots where there ought to have been heat, and even the dark of night had felt strangely pale and alight. Even the moon had seemed to move from its path across the sky. 

Astrid had told her that she was probably getting sick. She had laughed it off, thinking that instead perhaps it was a spot of seasonal affective disorder. In the early fall. Well, whatever. She had work to do instead. 

Technically, lacking in any kind of magical lineage or any kind of membership in the Mage’s Association, Joselle was a spell-caster and not a magus. Certainly not a magician. But she was still plugged in to the general magical community, inasmuch as one existed in this little city that practically felt like it was on the border between the American “heartland” and the American “rusted abyss of decayed industry.” There had been rumors swirling about leylines energizing, spells being warped by the presence of some nexus forming, a new priest showing up at one of the local dioceses… All more or less part of the annual life at the fringe of the magical world. 

But there was certainly something tilting, gently for the moment, but almost ready to tilt wildly and send everything flying. It was more than enough to put her off her hot cocoa. She sighed and got up from the coffeeshop counter. She thanked the baristas and made her way back home by bicycle. There was only one sure cure for this kind of lassitude. 

Good, honest magical labor. Namely, putting on something scrubby and going out to the old shed that a previous owner had probably used for their rake collection or something and further developing her magecraft. 

The spells Joselle worked on were, as a rule, nothing too ambitious. Fairly basic principles, repeated over and over again, like she was practicing cursive again. But of course, she lacked the magic circuits to really hope to do anything grand without lots and lots of refinement to pare down the energy needed. So it went, so it was. She sat down and prepared to work, laying hands to either side of the silvery (done in the finest Sharpie) magic circle she had designed. 

She concentrated, pouring energy in. And then a throbbing pain emerged within her skull. It spread throughout her brain, shutting down senses and nerves one by one until all that was left was a swirling agony. From that agony, a voice spoke. “You have been selected to fight. Call up the Servant of your choice. Defeat your foes. Win a drink from me…” 

The pain faded, and Joselle’s ears rung with the last few phrases of a chant she must have been saying aloud as her brain returned to external reality. The circle fizzled and sputtered, an entirely different set of inscriptions burning itself into the air above the metal, ones Joselle could only partially read at a glance. She yanked her hands away, convinced that this would surely drain her dry and then some, and yet without any connection to her circuits the spell continued, blobs of blue and white and red and black and a nearly invisible light swirling into a spiral within the circle’s enclosure. Joselle scrambled back as far as she dared. 

The lights coalesced, red condensing, solidifying, collapsing into a singular form. Joselle stared at it, her mind racing. Could this be- and then there was a pulse of light, and she instinctively shut her eyes against it. She could practically see the second pulse through her eyelids, seeping through them and into her mind, carrying with them images that scampered away into the recesses of her mind when she tried to think about them. She opened her eyes, and the light had vanished from her shed. Instead, in the center of the circle she’d drawn, there was a figure. 

Joselle had to crane her neck to get all of the figure in, as they stood probably seven feet tall. Likely a woman, she concluded, seeing where the heavy robe of scarlet trimmed with black that the figure wore was pulled tight by breasts and hips. (Definitely a woman, something said quietly, someone who was not a woman with a body like that would wear- and then it was gone.) Then her eyes caught the size of the woman’s arms and legs, and the faint hint of visible abs even through the robe, and she realized that if this woman was merely material she could nevertheless fold Joselle like a chair and sit on her, and Joselle found herself exploring all the corners of this thought. 

So she was visibly shocked when the woman asked her, “It seems you have summoned me, does it not?” She guiltily raised her eyes to the woman’s face. The woman looks down at her with a gentle smile. “You may call me Iriphikia for now,” she says, but Joselle can barely hear it. The soft, gentle features contrasted with the power of her body enthrall her in the mystery of this giantess. 

“Interesting. It seems as if I should introduce myself to you as of the Berserker class? I must admit that I barely know what that means. I think I shall need quite a bit of explanation from you.” Iriphikia strode outside of the circle, and placed a hand on Joselle’s shoulder. Joselle twitched, staring with eyes wide and incoherent at her. Iriphikia sighed patiently. “Oh dear, you’ve caught it very badly, haven’t you?” Yes, Joselle thought, you’re absolutely right. “Well, I’ll just have to improvise some treatment,” Iriphikia said, letting go of Joselle and looking around the shed. 

Am I caught in a lucid dream, Joselle thought, or have I somehow entered a pornographic pocket dimension? This can’t possibly be happening. Iriphikia snorted, then said, “Well, I’ll have to do this crudely,” and leaned down, looking Joselle directly in the eyes. Joselle quivered, and Iriphikia rolled her eyes and steadied her with her hands. And then Iriphikia muttered and chanted and then finally her eyes pulsed red again. Joselle crumpled. 

Iriphikia looked slightly puzzled, then sighed and picked Joselle up and carried her out of the shed. “Ah, the more fool me, to think that it was mere bewitchment by glamour,” she said. 

Joselle woke up laying on her sofa, staring at a coffee table that was covered with books. She focused and recognized that they were mostly her small collection of genuine magic-related texts, most of them left unread due to the sheer arcane nature of the theory involved. She could also hear a quiet song, almost hummed. She didn’t recognize the language, but she recognized the voice. Iriphikia. It wasn’t a dream. She had- she made a strangled sound.

Iriphikia stopped singing and said, “Awake?” 

Joselle said, with difficulty, “Yes.” She straightened herself up and looked at Iriphikia, who was sitting across from her in an armchair, writing intently, the paper supported by the book on birds she’d bought for the coffee table originally. 

She made a very quick discovery- Iriphikia had removed her robe. The robe was very unflattering to the figure. Underneath, she wore lightweight clothes, almost a t-shirt and workout shorts. Iriphikia very much had visible abs. In fact, overall, it would be difficult to describe her body. One could call it an hourglass figure, except that while there was a general hourglass shape to her, it was an hourglass where the pinch of her waist was still wider than most people’s bodies and dense muscle lurked obviously beneath. Joselle stopped breathing for a moment, then finally took a deep, shuddering breath. 

“Are you going to do that every time you look at me?” Iriphikia asked, not even looking up.

Joselle panted, then finally said, “Oh, I’m sure I’ll manage to control myself someday. Maybe if I do it often enough.” 

Iriphikia laughed. “Well well well, there is something more to you than helpless desires. I was worried I’d have to fuck you to bring that out.” She set down her writing and looked at Joselle. “Now, what is your name?” 

Joselle said, “Joselle Zola,” before her mind caught up fully. She considered a range of possible responses, then finally settled for sighing and slumping in her seat. 

“Well. Joselle. Why did you summon me? Despite all appearances, I find myself unable to believe it was for sex.” Joselle sat down and attempted to explain the concept of the Holy Grail War to Iriphikia. As best she could, with her own limited understanding of the topic. 

“So it’s a sex thing.” Iriphikia had leaned back in the chair and was smiling at the ceiling. 

“It’s not a sex thing!” Joselle said, wishing it were, and that men couldn’t participate. 

“Well, let’s see. Magicians-”

“No, not magicians. Magi or spell-casters,” Joselle said. 

“Pardon me,” Iriphikia said. “So, magi, then, they gather their strongest magical resources, call up the dead who have earned some measure of immortality, fuel them with the energy from their bodies, and compete to see who can reach a brimming cup called the “Holy Grail”, which is itself linked to a phenomenon called the “Root”, which is associated with the earth itself.” She yawned. “Frankly, my dear, you are making this place and time sound very depressing. In my day if you wanted to suck an earth goddess’s cock or eat her out, it was only a matter of finding an appropriately frisky priestess-” 

“It is nothing like that,” Joselle sputtered. “You’re imputing all kinds of sexual metaphors onto a very straightforward ritual about competing to win the right to a wish from the Grail!” 

“I don’t think I’m imputing anything,” Iriphikia said, lowering her head to look at Joselle again, “Even when you describe it there’s a definite tinge of sensuality about this… ritual. Competing for favors from a goddess.” Joselle pouted. Iriphikia said, “Oh, come now, don’t do that, you’re far too beautiful to pout so casually. My heart may well give out.” 

Joselle stood up. “You,” she said. “Who the hell are you? Supposedly the Grail system summons heroes, but I’ve never heard of you or anyone like-” Iriphikia rose from the armchair and kissed Joselle suddenly. 

“Now, now, now,” Iriphikia said, “Would you rather have me answer those questions or would you rather I indulge the desires you’ve been wonderfully open about?” Joselle stared into Iriphikia’s eyes, alight with a mischievous smile, and made a mewing sound. “That’s not quite an answer,” Iriphikia said, curling one arm around Joselle. 

“Indulge me,” Joselle moaned. “Do whatever you want with me. Take me to be yours. Drain me dry.” 

Iriphikia smiled, and crushed Joselle against her. She purred. She played with Joselle’s hair. Joselle was in turn rather too smothered to make anything other than an “Mmf!” sound in response. Finally, Iriphikia said, “Well, unfortunately for you, I’m afraid my tastes don’t lie in draining women dry. I prefer to fill them.” She kissed Joselle’s forehead. “I hope that’s not too much of a disappointment?” Joselle made a complicated but generally ecstatic sound. “Oh, good,” Iriphikia said, and lifted Joselle into her arms as if she weighed nothing at all. “While you were asleep, I explored your residence,” she said, “So this is where you sleep, isn’t it?” She carried Joselle into the bedroom. 

Joselle felt mildly ashamed of her bedroom. She kept things mostly clean, but here clutter intruded regularly, and she winced slightly at the crowded top of her dresser. Then Iriphikia’s face filled hers and kissed her again. “No,” she told Joselle. “You’re not going to feel any shame while I have you in my arms. Not a bit.” She laid Joselle down on the bed, then smirked. “Would you prefer a show of undressing, or do you want my arms back around you quickly?”

Joselle made a tortured sputtering sound. She searched for words but they resolutely refused to answer. Then Iriphikia began to peel her top off. She did so slowly and gently, yanking it up bit by bit to unveil her body. Joselle’s eyes darted between her breasts, her abs, her stomach, her biceps, her hands- fuck, her hands had such long fingers, how did she not notice that before- her face, which had lost any smirk and was now staring down with a look of pure passion at Joselle. 

Joselle whimpered. “Please,” she said, not sure what she was pleading for. Then Iriphikia kicked off her shorts and Joselle realized that she didn’t wear underwear on top or below, and she once again lost coherency. 

“You need these clothes, right?” Iriphikia said as she climbed onto the bed, straddling Joselle. 

“What?” Joselle asked this in a half-fog. 

“It would be a hardship to you if I were to tear these clothes off you, yes?” Iriphikia smiled down at Joselle. Joselle squirmed, wanting and yet well aware that her jeans had been eighty bucks when she bought them. 

“I’ll be gentle,” Iriphikia said, and unbuttoned said jeans. She pulled them down carefully, tenderly, then with them halfway removed leaned down and licked at Joselle’s thighs. “Like an antelope’s,” she murmured, feeling them. She finished pulling off Joselle’s jeans and then examined her underwear with interest.

Joselle wished she’d worn something a bit more interesting than plain nude-toned panties, and then Iriphikia said, “How skimpy.” She cooed and nuzzled Joselle’s thighs. “The clothes I was wearing were undergarments, you see,” she said, “And so I’m rather delighted by this particular fashion.” 

Joselle moaned, and then moaned louder as Iriphikia pulled her panties down. Then she felt Iriphikia shift suddenly. She found Iriphikia looming over her, panties held up in her right hand. “Hmmm, perhaps I can fulfill a bit of your need to be taken?” She winked at Joselle. “After all, you are getting louder. Shall I gag you with your underclothes?” Joselle cried out. 

“Yes!” She practically shrieked. “Please, gag me! Take control of my lips and throat!” 

Iriphikia paused for a moment. “You seem very pent up,” she said, pulling Joselle’s blouse up. “Have your lovers been unsatisfying for you? Unable to fulfill your desires?” She kissed Joselle’s tummy and then worked her arms around her to undo her bra. 

“I mean… It’s been a while since I’ve really had one,” she said. Iriphikia’s breath drew sharply. “It’s not always easy to find another woman, and I’ve been, well, busy since my last relationship, and,” Iriphikia kissed her again. 

“How appalling,” Iriphikia said when she let go of Joselle’s lips, “How utterly appalling.” She embraced Joselle tightly. “I shall have to make up for this deficiency.” She pulled Joselle’s bra off. 

“How do you know how to do that if that’s not the style of underwear in… the place you’re from?” Joselle blushed as she said this. 

“I seem to have received enough knowledge about this place and time to fit in as well as I did in my own time. So of course that knowledge included the means to properly satisfy a lady,” Iriphikia said, and then dragged her teeth down Joselle’s collarbone. Joselle cried out again. Iriphikia stuffed the panties into her mouth, loosely enough for her to breathe, and she moaned through them, enjoying the muffled sound. 

Iriphikia nibbled, scraped, scratched and bit her way up and down and all around Joselle’s body. Joselle managed to provide a similar diversity of cries, moans, shrieks, and yells in response. In the course of this, they had ended up facing each other, lying on their sides, and Joselle looked at Iriphikia, trembling and quivering. “Well, I think I’ve drained you quite enough,” Iriphikia said, looking over her handiwork and then smiling at Joselle. “I hope you don’t mind if I indulge myself and my desires next.”

Joselle spat the panties out. “Not one bit,” she said, panting a little. “Anything you want to do is just fine with me. Anything,” she laughed suddenly, “In the whole world. I’ll enjoy it.” 

Iriphikia kissed her. “I wonder how you’ll be talking after I’ve finished with you,” she said, breaking the kiss and gently teasing Joselle between her legs with one hand. She stroked lightly all around Joselle’s cunny, brushing her clit delicately, toying with her labia with the faintest of tugs in each direction. Joselle whimpered. “Good girl,” Iriphikia said, “I love the sounds you make.” 

She slid one finger into Joselle, who gasped in delight and also at the sudden gentleness of Iriphikia’s efforts. Iriphikia’s finger crooked as she explored Joselle’s insides, examining her in minute detail. Joselle bucked and wailed. Finally, Iriphikia withdrew and brought her hand up for Joselle to see. 

She licked her wettened finger clean, slowly and deliberately. Joselle moaned, staring at Iriphikia’s tongue in awe. Iriphikia smiled and said, “You’re very pliant, Joselle. I think I’ll have to use more than a single finger, don’t you?” 

Joselle nodded and whimpered, and Iriphikia’s smile broadened as her hand descended back down to where Joselle dripped and leaked. Before she did anything else, Iriphikia slid one leg over Joselle’s and wrapped them together as best as she was able. “Let’s make sure you don’t flail off the bed,” she said, and then slid two fingers into Joselle. 

Joselle was surprised that she hadn’t immediately screamed. Then Iriphikia’s fingers curled inside her and began to delicately rub a very particular spot, and then Iriphikia’s thumb found her clit, and she realized she’d been saving her screams for this. She howled and yelled too. She twitched and shuddered, held at first by Iriphikia’s legs, and then Iriphikia’s free arm curled around her and crushed her to Iriphikia once again. She cried out even louder, feeling herself explode and convulse and collapse, cuddling up to Iriphikia instinctively. Red lights danced in her eyes for a moment, and she looked up, groggy, and said, “Oh my fucking god.”

Iriphikia was barely breathing hard, and she looked down at Joselle and nuzzled her. “Need a drink of water?” she asked. 

“No, I don’t think so,” Joselle said, “At least not in the next few minutes. Why?” 

Iriphikia rearranged herself slightly, and Joselle found both arms and legs wrapped around her and holding her firmly close. “Good. I’m going to keep you here for a little bit, then.” Joselle relaxed and snuggled up. They lay there for a while, listening to each other breathe. 

“Why?” Joselle said.

“You summoned me without knowing who I am,” Iriphikia said, “And you looked on me with such desire, such lust. So we have some kind of affinity that drew us together, and for you, at least, this affinity was erotic. And for me, well, you’re beautiful, Joselle. Why wouldn’t I be open to something like this?” She made a satisfied sound. 

“That’s specious,” Joselle said, then paused. “Why am I trying to tear this moment down?” 

“You can examine that in the morning,” Iriphikia said. “Why don’t we sleep now?” She frowned. “Hmm. I’d have to let go of you to pull a blanket over us.” 

“We really should turn the light off, too,” Joselle said sleepily. “Good habit to have…” Iriphikia uncoiled from her and went about shutting off lights and finally returned, pulling a blanket over the two of them as she lay down. 

“Sleep well,” she said, but Joselle was for all intents and purposes already asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, it doesn't get any less self-indulgent from here on out.


End file.
